


dave meets winter

by ecrowe



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cuddles, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluffy, For the first time, Hot Chocolate, Ice Skating, LOTS OF FLUFFFFFFFF, Multi, Snow, Winter, and stuff, dave meets winter, im sure, more than probably, probably, trust me lol, will probably get mature later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 03:32:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4463846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecrowe/pseuds/ecrowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a collection of drabbles in which dave meets winter. </p><p>I: You thought you'd like ice skating, because you like water. You like the feeling of cold liquid against your face, hands and toes and your body in the mornings, and you like the droplets of water falling down on your shoulders from your wet hair. You thought that if you'd combine two things you love— water and John— you'd get something amazing, but. No. You were so, so wrong. ("But, Dave, there's no difference. It's water. It's just... frozen.")</p><p>II: You step outside, shoeless and the ends of your sweatpants are soaking in snow. It's the first time you wake up and smell fresh, cold air. It's the first time you're greeted by almost colorless sky, and it's the first time you feel snowflakes vanish in the palms of your hands.</p><p>III: You stand, curled up under a blanket, on the sofa. You're watching a Christmas-themed  soap opera that John put on, not even trying to find an excuse for it. But you don't need one.</p><p>IV: You hold his hand, fingers entwined. Walking through the crowds of people it looks like you're holding hands just to make sure you're not getting lost; but in fact, you both know the real reason— you need to feel each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ice skating

**Author's Note:**

> man i dont know. posting winter/christmas fanfiction in july/august yolo

_You thought you'd like ice skating, because you like water. You like the feeling of cold liquid against your face, hands and toes and your body in the mornings, and you like the droplets of water falling down on your shoulders from your wet hair. You thought that if you'd combine two things you love— water and John— you'd get something amazing, but. No. You were so, so wrong. ("But, Dave, there's no difference. It's water. It's just... frozen.")_

He looks at you, you know.

"Dave."

He's far from you.

" _Dave."_

He's closer now.

You open your eyes, slowly. You blink a few times and look at him; he looks at you, amused smile playing on his lips. You gaze at your hands that are wrapped around the metal bar, holding yourself close to it, and if you weren't wearing red mittens you'd see your white knuckles and your red palms, to match the color of the material and your cheeks and nose. You don't want to let go; you will keep your death grip on this bar.

"You have to move."

"No," you respond quickly, eyes darting down. You almost see yourself in the ice. You blink again and start to be somewhat annoyed by the fact that gusts of wind keep blowing in your eyes and it stings because it's cold and you don't know what to do and you had to leave your shades and you don't want to look up and everything  _sucks._

"Princess, sorry to break it to you but no one cares about the color of your eyes, if that's what you're actually concerned about."

You feel a little offended— you shouldn't-  
— but sigh because he's right. If you could, you'd raise your foot and drop it on the floor in a childish manner just to annoy him. But if you move, if you  _move just one inch,_ your legs will shoot up in front of you and you will slip away from the gravity's grasp and you do  _not_ want to fall on your ass  _here._

"John, I don't like this."

He  _giggles_  and moves closer to you. He stands in front of you now and makes a pirouette, like a fucking ballerina, and air swooshes as he does the exact same thing and you see him on the opposite side of the rink you are now. He makes a gesture with his hand, provoking you to move and you faintly see him wiggling his eyebrows.

You gulp and try to slowly,  _really slowly,_ soften your grasp on the bar and push yourself away from the safety of it.

Dave: release the Kraken.

Yes, because that's exactly what you look like. You look like a huge, dying octopus, with your hands flailing around you and your legs bending, trying to keep your damn balance  _and_ your dignity. You straighten your back and your legs, and your arms fall at your sides. You are moving slowly. You now look like a fucking plank but who cares, you feel like a queen. Yes, you are  _The Queen._  You can totally do this! You are full of confidence right now, you actually sway your hips a little, and no, there's no[ROOM LEFT](https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/25321050/write/151756864#32560255) for anything because you fucking did it, you're ice skating, there's no room left for Jesus, do you hear that?

It's the sound of you shrieking like a terrified five year old kid because you're starting to fall forward, not on your ass, and your face will meet the cold hard floor and you will break your totally perfect nose. You flail and thrash and try to stop yourself from falling.

You close your eyes and wait for the worst.

Which never comes, because you feel warmth surrounding your body and you feel the firm grip of two hands pulling you closer to another body and you're saved.

You look up at him and he smiles back with his whole face and his blue eyes are glittering (with amusement or not, you don't know).

"Hello," John says, his hands moving on your waist.

"Hello yourself," you respond, glancing around you— he's right, no one gives a flying fuck unless you hit the floor and break a bone—, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

He keeps you close, with his lips on your forehead, leaving soft pecks of encouragement as he starts skating backwards and it takes you a few moments to give up on your ego and let him have his way and even if you're wearing a fuzzy, large coat you still feel the warmth of his hands, maybe through the warmth of his smile, or his eyes above your hair. You start moving your own feet in the same way he does.

John laughs and pulls away, grabbing your hands, still skating backwards in front of you. You can't stop the smile from spreading on your flushed cheeks.

"See? It isn't so bad."

"That's because you're... shit... you're the one who does most of the skating," you mumble, trying to keep up with him. He's so multi-task, if you talk too much you can't concentrate on moving your legs and fuck up. You panic when a couple skates past you and touches your arm, almost making you trip. The girl turns to face you and mumbles an apology and John nods at her. She turns around and holds the other's girl- girlfriend maybe?- hand and she,  _yuuuup_ , girlfriend.

You turn your face towards John, who is still holding your hands, but looking around him.

"Hey, John."

He hums to let you know you have his attention. You push yourself closer to him, and you whisper a quick "look at me" before you place your hands on his face and make him look at you. His hands are once again wrapped around your middle, and he smiles before leaning down to kiss you.

Yeah, sure, maybe it's not  _that_ bad.

But you  _do_ end up falling on your ass, anyways.


	2. snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> daves first time (meeting the snow haha)

_You step outside, shoeless and the ends of your sweatpants are soaking in snow. It's the first time you wake up and smell fresh, cold air. It's the first time you're greeted by almost colorless sky, and it's the first time you feel snowflakes vanish in the palms of your hands._

You take in a deep breath and step forward, your feet drowning in snow up to your calves. Your toes are numb as you clench them under the snow and you lean down. You take a fist full of frozen vapor and look at it. It takes you a few moments to recognize the pain starting to pinch at your rosy fingers and palm.

You lick the snow.

It tastes like... nothing.

Disappointed, you let it fall from your hand and turn around.

You see John looking at you with amused specks of light in his eyes. He stands in the doorway with a blanket in his hand.

You shiver and decide it's better to head back inside than to catch the winter blues so you strut to John and close the door behind you with a soft  _click._

"So?" he asks, settling the blanket on your shoulders.

"I am  _very_ disappointed," you say, your toes and fingers starting to feel alive again. You slowly stroll in front of the mirror in the hallway and proceed to look at yourself. Tusled hair, pink cheeks and red nose to almost match the color of your eyes. You sneeze and hear John yell "bless you" from the kitchen and you murmur a "thanks" in response. You're not sure he heard it.

"Did you expect it to taste like... something?" he asks, suddenly next to you.

You slump your shoulders and turn around to face him.

"I don't know. I've never actually tasted or felt snow. One time it did snow, back in Texas, and it was on the news for almost a month," you explain, raising your eyebrows slightly. "Mostly everyone was shitting bricks but I've hibernated through the three days of snow like a boss."

"Jeez, why would you do that?"

"It was a rough time to be awake for a  _Calypte costae_ like me," you deadpan.

John opens his mouth as if he wants to say something but shuts it, his eyebrows jumping up. Then he frowns. You smile at his confusion and bring a palm up to your cheek to feel it. It's warm. You warm your fingers on your face.

"A species of hummingbird."

He lets out a soft  _oh_ and then a  _hm_  and then sighs. He leans down and pecks your freckled nose before ruffling your  _already disheveled_ ashen hair and heads back to the kitchen, deciding he does not want to put up with your bird shenanigans right now.


	3. hot chocolate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> instant christmas spirit yo

_You stand, curled up under a blanket, on the sofa. You're watching a Christmas-themed  soap opera that John put on, not even trying to find an excuse for it._ _But you don't need one._

You hear the female protagonist dramatically whisper a love confession before you groan, grasping the pillow next to you and shoving it in your face. God, it's horrible.

You slowly let it down from your face and cuddle it in your arms. You squint. Your toes curl up under and over the soft material of your pale socks and a smile plays on your lips as you remember yesterday's events (which include you and John sock skating on the floor which ended up with both of you falling). You huff, amused, and bring your right leg under your other one.

Your fingers brush up and down against the smooth surface of the pillow. You recognize this, as a habit. You have a habit of petting and brushing things, and no one complains, really. You're sure you make good use of it when John's head is in your lap and your fingers run through his silky, dark locks of wild hair and scratch along his scalp whenever he wants.

"What the hell is wrong with you," you whisper, disappointed at the character's actions. "You're the problematic fave aren't you, you lil' shit."

You chuckle to yourself before acknowledging this as another weird habit of yours.

You blink. You yawn. You hear a soft thud next to you and suddenly John is pressed to your side, legs stretching in front of him. You believe you have an advantage of being just  _slightly_ shorter than him; your legs are very comfortable to sit on.

You turn your face to him and he extends a hand to you, holding a mug.

"What is this?"

"Instant Christmas Spirit," he says, smiling at his own joke and taking a sip from his own mug.

You wrap your fingers along the mug and inhale sharply through your teeth because it's  _hot._ Really hot. Whipped cream and chocolate chips are sprinkled on top, above the layers of hot chocolate and other ingredients he probably used. He sets his own mug on the coffee table and then he looks at you. His fingers reach up to your forehead and brush away a few strands of hair.

You sip and let the hot liquid overflow your mouth, your tongue. You swallow it and feel the warmth spreading in your throat. It's nice. You taste peppermint on the tip of your tongue and set the mug down next to John's.   
"It's good."

"I know."

"I'm kinda jealous," you say, setting the pillow next to you. "You get to drink this shit when your ass can be freezing outside but we are stuck with popsicles and ice cream all fuckin' year."

"I don't see the problem. Ice cream's awesome."

"Not when you've tasted like, all flavors, for more than five times."

"You didn't taste all the flavors."

"I did," you say matter of factly, shifting in your place and proudly holding your head up, like an arrogant child. "You think I lived 19 years in Texas for nothin'? Fat chance, darlin'," you add.

Your vague southern drawl found it's way into your words. John said it's pleasing to hear it because it's smooth and paired well with your voice and just... you.

He laughs at you; but it's only a soft, warm laugh and he scoots closer to you. You place your hands on his shoulders, tracing his collarbones and moving up to the back of his neck and his hair. You pull him closer and he makes the good decision of closing the distance between your lips, kissing you sweetly.

You enjoy spending time kissing him, because it's like your lips fit perfectly into a lock and you both are your own keys. His tongue slowly brushes past your parted lips and over your teeth and makes you sigh, relaxed, and climb onto his lap with his arms around your middle. Your blanket hangs onto your shoulders like a cape, briefly brushing the floor. His tongue waltzes along your own one and you can taste the sweetness of the chocolate chips and peppermint. You sigh through your nostrils and wrap your hands around his neck, bringing your whole body closer to his.

You pull away, searching for breath. You pant heavily as he leaves soft kisses on your neck.

"It's my first winter with you," you mumble. You feel his breath on your skin. You shiver.

"It will be your first Christmas with me," he says, lips moving against your neck.

You're sure that this is going to be the best Christmas ever. 


	4. sweaters around the town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmm they just walk thats it sorry

_You hold his hand, fingers entwined. Walking through the crowds of people it looks like you're holding hands just to make sure you're not getting lost; but in fact, you both know the real reason— you need to feel each other._

It's not like if people stare, they would pry your hand away from his. It's fine, because mostly everyone is holding hands right now, it's "the Christmas Spirit". You have the urge to say "lol" out loud and you hide your little smirk behind the scarf covering half of your face.

You walk close to him, your shoulder bumping his arm softly and his thumb caressing your palm now and then. You look at him and he looks at you, and even if you can't see  _the_ smile, you're sure he  _is_ smiling. The corners of your lips raise up slightly. There's still snow everywhere, but now it's kind of dirty because of the crowds of people furiously stomping on it. It's not that nice when you accidentally slip and manage to get John's hand into a deadly grip.

There are Christmas decorations, and lights, and people dressed up as santa and elves. You don't think you've ever seen so many lights that can look okay while being put next to each other.

It's nice, you think. Well, the snow was nicer in John's yard. There were places where it was untouched and unmoved, and it was elevated and beautiful.

John says that tomorrow you will put up the Christmas decorations, too.

Right now, you don't know what you're actually doing— you're walking around the town, and you fught the urge to stick your hand under your coat and scratch your stomach and back because it itches. The sweater you're wearing makes you feel warm and cozy but it makes you mad at the same time. How is that even possible.

You pass a man dressed up as santa and you almost laugh because wow that was a really fancy santa. It reminds you of someting but you can't put the pieces together. It's okay, you do this often.

You see couples holding hands and parents swinging up their children as they run. You see people hurrying to get somewhere and you see groups of teenagers walk carelessly.   
You're not sure how it happened but you and John decided to photo bomb two girls trying to take a picture of themselves.


End file.
